


like an inland ocean

by witching



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Come Swallowing, Complicated Relationships, Denial of Feelings, Fantasizing, First Time, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Season/Series 03, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29011167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching/pseuds/witching
Summary: When John Silver realized that James Flint could be sweet, it was an accident. Flint hadn’t meant to say it to him, hadn’t meant to let it slip at all, and he denied it vehemently after the fact, but Silver was absolutely sure of what he had heard. They had been working on something below deck, and Flint had asked Silver to pass him a length of rope, and Silver had done it, and their fingers had brushed just the slightest bit, so light that Silver wasn’t sure it had happened at all.But then Flint had murmured, tender as anything and soft as down, “Thanks, love,” and Silver wasn’t sure whether his dick or his heart grew more, but both reacted plenty quickly, making his head spin.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	like an inland ocean

**Author's Note:**

> the under-negotiated kink is just. you know, 18th century kink negotiation standards were not very high. they fall into a sort of d/s thing without talking very much about it, but they're both into it and they do talk about it a little bit.  
> pretty much don't @ me about anything in this fic i just wanted them to fuck

_and sometimes i feel like an inland ocean_ _  
__too big to be a lake, too small to be an attraction_ _  
__and when you wander in and start to flail a bit_ _  
__i let it happen, let it happen, let it happen_

// st. vincent, 'smoking section'

* * *

When John Silver realized that James Flint could be _sweet,_ it was an accident. Flint hadn’t meant to say it to him, hadn’t meant to let it slip at all, and he denied it vehemently after the fact, but Silver was absolutely sure of what he had heard. They had been working on something below deck, and Flint had asked Silver to pass him a length of rope, and Silver had done it, and their fingers had brushed just the slightest bit, so light that Silver wasn’t sure it had happened at all.

But then Flint had murmured, tender as anything and soft as down, “Thanks, love,” and Silver wasn’t sure whether his dick or his heart grew more, but both reacted plenty quickly, making his head spin.

“Course, dear,” he responded casually, a roguish smile playing on his lips, because he wasn’t about to let Flint live that one down without comment, and he certainly wasn’t about to seriously address the way it made him feel.

Flint turned on him with a furrowed brow, and Silver raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to say something. He didn’t say anything, and they only stood staring at each other for a long time before Silver ventured, slow and careful, “You called me _love.”_

“I fucking did not,” Flint spat at him, and to anyone who didn’t know him as well as Silver did, he might have seemed angry. But his cheeks were red, his eyes just a little bit too wide, and the words fell from his lips too quickly, too suddenly to be from anger.

He was afraid. Silver knew this, because he knew Flint, or at least he liked to believe he knew him. Still, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out _why_ Flint was scared.

He could have, if he had thought about it for more than five seconds, figured it out himself, but that would have required thinking about it. And if he thought about it, he would have had to think about how he felt about it, and that was simply out of the question, a non-starter, inconceivable.

He couldn’t stop himself thinking about it, though. He thought about it nearly constantly, in fact. Thought about it when he was dreaming about another life, a life so far inland that no man had been troubled by the sea; he thought of Flint sitting in a big soft chair, reading, and he would bring him a cup of tea, and Flint would murmur, “Thanks, love,” and Silver would kiss – 

Those were not the aspirational kind of dreams. Those were sleeping dreams, ones that he couldn’t predict nor control, and he tried to forget them. He always woke from them feeling like something was missing from him, like he had had a part of him removed that really would have been better off left where it was.

He also always woke from them hard as a fucking rock.

He could only take so much of it before he had to, he just _had_ to bring it up with Flint. Even if he were soundly rejected, at least he would _know,_ at least he would have that to fall back on when he let his dreams get out of control. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how bloody soft it was – _Thanks, love; Thanks, love; Thanks, love_ beating a tattoo in his brain. He thought about it when he got himself off, and he felt guilty and ashamed and disgusting for it, but what was he meant to do? He couldn’t very well ignore it.

It wasn’t… he assured himself it wasn’t because Flint was a man, but because he was _Flint._ Of course, he was raised with certain ideas about propriety, but he always figured that once he became a bloody _pirate,_ most rules about propriety went out the window, especially the stuffy ones regarding activities that didn’t hurt anybody. John Silver was a good man, and he kept that within him even as he had to relearn the world from a new point of view. He was never needlessly cruel or callous, he just did what was best for him, and that included fucking whoever he damn well pleased.

But honestly, the _captain?_ James Flint? It had to be him, didn’t it. He was just so – rough around the edges, so strong and grizzled and gruff, but also learned and diplomatic and determined, and so beautiful, and Silver had never even considered any of that until Flint had to go and drop a _Thanks, love_ on him and bring it all to the surface.

Because – John Silver had a preference, when it came to sex, and James Flint hadn’t really fallen in line with his interests before. John Silver was fine with being dominated every once in a while by a gorgeous woman, but he didn’t need it from James Flint, not when it was already his job to contend with the man’s stubborn force of will. He needed someone who would trust _him_ with that kind of power, and James Flint was not that man. Until he was.

Silver had never truly seen him in his element, in a domestic scene, all soft and comfortable and _sweet._ He thought about it quite a lot, in the days between the inciting incident and his eventual downfall, thought about James Flint sleeping in a real bed, peaceful and gentle, and that environment seemed to lend itself to the kind of thing that had the power to ruin John Silver from the inside out. 

He wanted James Flint on his knees. He wanted James Flint to beg to suck his cock. He wanted to stroke James Flint’s hair and tell him what a pretty little pet he was. He wanted to hold James Flint’s head still and fuck his mouth like he was nothing more than a toy for Silver to use, and he wanted the only reminder to the contrary to be that no toy ever enjoyed being used quite as much as James Flint did. No toy ever drooled over a cock like that, no toy ever sucked him like the desperate Flint of his fantasies. 

It wasn’t about putting Flint in his place. It wasn’t about getting back at him, or feeling powerful over the man who wielded his authority like a sharp blade. It wasn’t about hurting him or seeing him suffer. It was about intimacy, vulnerability. John Silver wanted all of those things, but more importantly, he wanted it to happen because he was the _only_ person who got to see James Flint like that. He wanted it to happen because James Flint trusted him enough to let his guard down and give Silver the reins and believe that Silver would use that trust only to give them both pleasure, and that he would never, ever hurt him.

They had a long way to go before they could reach that point, he thought, but it was worth a shot, in the meantime, to see if he could get a good fuck out of it. Unless it actually got him shot, which – possible, yes, but he heard all of the talk from everyone all of the time, and he knew that two shipmates sleeping together would be the furthest thing from a scandal. The only thing standing between him and that sweet bliss was his own cowardice and whatever ego-filled reproach Flint met the request with.

The reproach, as it turned out, was not quite so reproachful as Silver had feared it might be. It was just more of that fear, and he wanted to know why, but after what he had just said, he figured it wasn’t his place to ask any more prying questions, so he held his hands firmly to his sides, tamped down the urge to reach out and soothe Flint with a touch, and waited for his answer.

The question had been “Have you ever thought about the two of us fucking?” because Silver couldn’t find another way to say it that wasn’t either far too emotionally revealing or far too convoluted to get the point across. And Flint had frozen, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood visibly, and Silver was stuck waiting, resolutely not thinking about tasting that blood.

Eventually, Flint spoke up, his voice a low growl, barely audible. "The fuck kind of question is that?"

"I just mean – I've never seen you show that kind of… interest, in anyone?" Silver winced at his own phrasing, beyond uncomfortable in this conversation, but he had started it, and he'd be damned if he didn't finish it. "Except maybe Miranda, but even that was always up in the air. And you and I spend more time together than either of us spend with anyone else. I'm just saying, it's not so out there to have considered it."

"Are you asking because _you've_ considered it?" Flint ventured slowly, cautiously.

Silver licked his lips, examining Flint's face shrewdly. "I hadn't considered it," he answered, "until I did consider it. I'm not saying that I've thought about it as a _real_ possibility, just that I've thought about it."

"And if I've thought about it?" Flint asked, avoiding eye contact like the plague.

"If you've thought about it,” Silver replied, “and I've thought about it, then I guess the next question is… is it an… appealing concept? For you?"

"Christ's sake, Silver,” Flint snapped at last, and Silver could picture the irritated look on his face, even as Flint tried to turn his head to hide it, “are you asking me to fuck you or not?"

Silver stood there gaping for a long moment, long enough that Flint finally looked up at him, expectation and a hint of anxiety written beneath that familiar annoyance. When Silver spoke again, his voice was hoarse and low. "You know, Captain, I think I might be."

"Right. Next time, do us both a favor and just ask, alright?" Flint shook his head with a frustrated little exhale, then caught Silver's eye with a heated look. "How does this work, then? What have you been… considering?"

"I was thinking," Silver began, still apprehensive, as if afraid that he was dreaming, that getting too excited or too confident about it would wake him up. "You'd look really nice on your knees." 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew there was no turning back. He had said it, and he couldn't unsay it, and he couldn't qualify it or water it down, he could only wait for Flint's response and hope it wasn't as bad as he feared it would be. He stared at his feet, thinking about running away or jumping overboard, and waited. 

Flint didn't say anything, but Silver heard the whisper of leather and linen, and before he could think to look at what it was, Flint was in his line of sight again. The top of his head obscured Silver's view of the floor, and then it was his face, as he tilted his head back to look up at him. It took Silver's mind a moment to catch up, to realize that – he'd said Flint would look good on his knees, and Flint had _dropped to his knees_ without a second thought.

It was a heady feeling, the power that came with that knowledge, and it confirmed what Silver had been thinking about Flint for days. "God, you're – you never cease to amaze me."

The little smile that played on Flint’s mouth was one that Silver didn’t recognize, had never seen before. “What’s so amazing?” he asked, and licked his lips.

“I just,” Silver began, clenching his hands into fists at his sides, nearly overcome with the urge to reach out and stroke Flint’s hair, “never expected you to be so… good.”

“I can be good when it suits me,” Flint answered simply. 

“And this suits you?” Silver asked, incredulous. “This is – is what you want? From me?”

Flint shrugged, and the motion of his shoulders drew Silver’s attention to the fact that his hands were folded at the small of his back, all obedient and patient. He made a punched-out sound and had to force himself to listen to what Flint was saying.

His voice was easygoing, as if all the tension from before had simply melted from him when he learned that Silver _wanted_ him. “It’s like you said,” he explained affably. “I don’t get to do this very often. I’ve been trusting you with my life for some time now, and I haven’t died yet, so I don’t see any added risk in trusting you with this as well.”

Silver just shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around Captain James Flint kneeling at his feet. “Are you just going to do whatever I say, then?”

“Within reason,” Flint said warily, giving him a warning look, “and with the mutual understanding that I don’t necessarily _have_ to do anything if I don’t want to.”

“Of course,” said Silver, and then, finding he had no more hedging or stalling left in him, he asked in a low voice, “Do you _want_ to suck my cock?”

“Not much else I can do down here,” Flint shot back easily.

Silver rolled his eyes, though his heart was pounding out of his chest, and an echoing pulse throbbing in his pants. Not trusting his voice, he moved to pull his half-hard cock from his pants, trying and failing to make the motions seem small and casual. He stroked himself loosely a few times, grunting softly at the sensation and keeping his eyes locked on Flint’s face, searching for any kind of reaction.

The reaction was subtle, but gratifying: Flint's lips parting, a soft sigh and a glance up at Silver, asking permission. Silver gave him a little nod of his head, his prick filling out more from the look on Flint's face than anything else. 

Flint wasted no time, leaning forward and taking Silver's length into his mouth until the head hit the back of his throat. He swallowed, a fluttering constriction of his tongue, and Silver had to restrain himself from bucking his hips. It occurred to him, distantly, that his hand still wrapped around the base of his cock was now a hair's breadth from Flint's lips, and then it occurred to him that they had gotten into this rather quickly, that he hadn't even gotten a kiss before Flint was on his knees sucking his cock, and it all felt quite backwards but unbelievably good nonetheless.

None of those thoughts seemed to be plaguing Flint, who had brought his hand up to blanket Silver's, loosely, giving him room to pull his hand away should he wish to do so. Silver did, but only to immediately tangle his fingers in Flint's hair – gorgeous, that hair, he'd always thought so, and it wrapped so nicely around his fingers, so perfectly. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, fresh out of eloquence and articulation. He tugged Flint’s hair, just gently, and felt the answering moan reverberate around his cock, and couldn’t hold back a little whine of his own. 

Without warning, while Silver was still caught up in thoughts of silken hair and the distant possibility of kissing, Flint relaxed his throat and took him all the way to the root. Silver wasn’t – well, he wasn’t _massive,_ but he was endowed well enough that this was impressive, and moreover, that it had to be practiced. The tight heat of Flint’s throat around his cock was overwhelming, but it was still almost drowned out by the thought of how many times he must have done this in order to be that good at it.

In the coming days, he would try to convince himself that the fierce spark of heat that flared up in his chest at that thought was anything but jealousy. He would tell himself it was just arousal, a perfectly natural response to thinking about James Flint on his knees how many other times in his life. But he knew Flint didn’t do this often, and it was almost reflexive for him, as if he didn’t even have to think about it. It had to come from somewhere, didn’t it?

In the moment, he had only gratitude for whoever had taught James Flint how to suck cock. After the fact, it plagued him nearly constantly. He had never considered himself a jealous or possessive man, but James Flint seemed to be bringing out a lot of things in him that he hadn't known of before.

Flint was bobbing his head now, pulling back until the tip of Silver's cock rested on the center of his tongue before sucking gently. He looked up at Silver's face and Silver looked down at his face and had to brace himself against the nearest surface. The sight of Flint's lips wrapped around his cock was one thing, but his eyes – _God,_ his _eyes._ Silver had never seen him look like this, plaintive and earnest and sweet, his eyes wide and vivid and gorgeous.

Apparently, he’d been staring for too long without saying or doing anything, because Flint pulled back, giving him a puzzled, expectant look. Silver just kept staring, mesmerized and rendered speechless by those stormy eyes, until Flint eventually got sick of it and snapped, “What are you _looking_ at?”

“I just,” Silver stopped to clear his throat before answering, “I never realized how gorgeous your eyes are.”

Flint tried to look unaffected, ducking his head to hide the flush in his cheeks, but Silver saw right through it. He reached down to cup Flint’s cheek, guiding him to look up at his face, and Flint went with the motion easily. 

“Hey,” Silver murmured as gently as he could manage. “What do you want?”

Wordlessly, Flint reached up to circle Silver’s wrist with his fingers, moving his hand from Flint’s cheek to the side of his head, and Silver tangled his fingers in Flint’s hair almost without thinking. After a second, he did the same with his other hand. Flint smiled for a moment and then took Silver’s cock in his hand and guided it back between his lips, stopping there and waiting for Silver to respond.

Silver hesitated only to raise a questioning brow at Flint, an unspoken _Are you sure?_ Flint actually had the nerve to roll his eyes at that, as if Silver hadn’t been watching out for his gag reflex, before nodding his head minutely. 

Slowly, cautiously, Silver gave Flint what he wanted, thrusting forward, sliding his cock into the slick heat of Flint’s mouth. Flint didn’t even gag when the head of Silver’s cock hit the back of his throat, only relaxed the muscles further and swallowed. Taking the hint, and almost involuntarily, Silver bucked his hips with more confidence, burying himself to the hilt before pulling out again.

It took a bit to work up to a rhythmic pace that pleased both of them. Silver was apprehensive still: half of him was afraid to hurt the captain if he went too hard or too fast, and the other half of him was afraid to insult him if he used him like he really wanted to. Flint seemed more insulted by Silver’s being careful, though, glaring up at him until he got the message and began fucking his mouth in earnest.

Flint let his eyes flutter shut, breathed a small sigh through his nose, and some of the tension melted from his shoulders. Silver looked down at his face, resolve strengthening as he saw how at peace Flint looked like this. His fingers tightened in Flint’s hair, pulling with just the slightest amount of pressure, but the response was immediate, a whine high in Flint’s throat and an aborted attempt to lunge forward, whether to take more of Silver’s cock or to exacerbate the tugging at his scalp, Silver couldn’t tell.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Silver groaned, using his grip in Flint’s hair to hold him still and fuck into his mouth over and over again. He was already embarrassingly close, after being constantly turned on for several days and then even more turned on by the second since Flint had dropped to his knees. “You’re a fucking wonder, captain, you know that? I think this is really – really going to improve our working relationship.”

There was a look in Flint’s eyes, a hardened fervor tinged with irritation, and Silver took that as a sign that he should stop talking. Even if he hadn’t gotten the hint, he would have been rendered incapable of words when Flint hollowed his cheeks and flexed his tongue. 

“I’m almost there,” Silver said, quiet and breathless. “Where – where d’you want it?”

The answer came in the form of Flint doubling down on his efforts, humming pleasantly around Silver’s cock in his mouth. Silver didn’t need telling twice. He caught Flint’s eye for a moment, saw the open, wanting look on his face, and he was done for, thrusting all the way in and coming down Flint’s throat.

Flint swallowed it all down, sucking eagerly until the cock in his mouth started to become soft and oversensitive. Silver winced, pulled out and tucked himself back in his pants before extending his hand to help Flint to his feet. Flint stood without taking the proffered hand, but Silver couldn’t be offended by that, not with what Flint had just done for him, and certainly not with Flint’s face so close to his.

Kissing James Flint came just as easily as everything else had so far – too easily, to the point where Silver had to question things he thought he knew about himself, but for now there was no question about it. He moved in quickly and caught Flint’s lips, eliciting a gasp before Flint got over his initial surprise and kissed him back. Silver slipped his tongue between Flint’s lips, licking the taste of his own spend from Flint’s mouth, and it was good.

Without breaking the kiss, Silver pressed his thigh between Flint’s legs, feeling the length of his erection, and Flint thoughtlessly ground down against him. Reaching a hand down in between them, Silver blindly felt the way until he could wrap his fingers around Flint’s cock. He hummed a questioning sound and waited for Flint’s echoing hum of agreement before stroking him deftly.

Flint moaned against his lips, bucked into his hand, and Silver brought his free hand up to the back of his head, deepening the kiss further. It didn’t take long for Flint to tip over the edge, a broken whine stuck in his throat as he spilled over Silver’s fist. Stroking him through his orgasm, Silver felt a warmth in his chest, something like pride spreading through him until Flint finally pulled away.

Silver wiped his hand on his thigh without a second thought, focused on watching Flint put himself together and catch his breath. When his clothes were all done up again, he turned to catch Silver’s gaze, and while he might normally have looked away, unwilling to be caught staring, Silver found that he didn’t mind it this time.

“What, ah… what was that?” he asked as soon as he could find his voice.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Flint replied gruffly. “I mean, it was whatever you’d like it to be.”

“It was good,” said Silver, feeling dumb, redundant. “Good… stress relief, for both of us I think. Might like to do it again sometime. That enough for you?”

For a split second, Flint’s eyes narrowed and it looked like he might say something unexpected, but the look disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and he gave a slow nod. “Yeah, that’s – it’s good.”

“Alright,” Silver said, his voice soft and wooden with disbelief and a dawning sense of discomfort. “Okay. So. I’ll just be on my way, then, and I’ll see you later.”

Flint didn’t answer except to clear his throat and nod his head, averting his eyes, and Silver left before he could say or do anything stupid – any more than he already had, that is. The warm feeling in his chest had faded to a lukewarm sensation of undetermined meaning, and he spent the rest of the day going back and forth between trying to ignore it and trying to figure out what it was. 

All he knew, as he lay down to sleep that night, was that his desire wasn’t sated, he wasn’t satisfied, and he would almost certainly have more of those damned dreams.


End file.
